Sunday, September 8, 2013

September

I'm still here, reading others' words instead of writing my own, putting out the little fires that accompany the start of school for a seventh and tenth grader, adjusting to my own work after the summer hiatus, lying low, you'd say, felled by the cold that lurks around the cafeteria and playground every year during the opening weeks of school.

At night, the windows open, I'm not sleeping, not much, anyway. Instead I'm listening to the summer sounds, the cicadas and crickets, mostly, wondering whether I'll be able to discern the moment when their songs fall away into autumn. How else to know when to shut those windows?

From my perch, it all goes so fast, it's all so slippery and elusive. Can you blame me for wanting to fix a moment in time and space, for willing the operator to stop the Ferris wheel when I'm at the top, even as my stomach clutches and my hearts beats faster than it ought?

Yes, I'm lying low, and the only justification for it is that I'm not getting any younger.

Bear with me as I bear with you. And the world, the children of Syria. And my son in a fight with one of his best friends. And, you know, life, which explicably or not weights the clothesline, dropping it so close to the ground that the poor innocent clothes end up edged not in daisies but in dirt.


4 comments:

Christine said...

September, for me, is a month of sweet discomfort. I feel that I'm on a precipice and will, at any moment, dive either into the bliss or into the deep darkness.

krista said...

funny how september always fools me into thinking exciting things are on the way. fresh starts, autumn breezes, blah blah blah. i live in los angeles. september is always the hottest, muggiest month of the year. i am always disappointed and discouraged. and it always makes me think i'm not paying attention enough.
and there there are your words. paying attention to the small things. reminding me to do the same. thank you.

V-Grrrl @ Compost Studios said...

I am trying so hard to create my own happiness but parenting my teenagers is keeping me perennially off-balance, sleep deprived, grumpy.

alejna said...

I am always amazed by your way with words. Even though you are writing to say that you are not writing, your writing is a pleasure to read. I found myself nodding along with much of what you wrote, too, especially that last line.

These days I am writing, but not blogging. Would you believe that I am making progress with my academic writing? I'm almost afraid to admit it publicly.